Daily Bread

I do not have any strong inclinations today. I'm worn out. It is almost the end of February. It is a gray day. There is nothing particularly bad about today. I simply do not feel like reflecting. But I do so because this is a practice.

There is no particular need to be wise or witty. One does not practice for others. I do the practice because I felt called to it and became convinced to set up this thing simply to be made accountable to it. There even was an email in my inbox from a good friend calling me a slacker for not reflecting. "It's not Sunday" she accosted me. It is not Sunday so I write to be accountable.

Trudge is such an appropriate word. To slog is another one. Trudging is the picking up of feet, one in front of the other, in order to move for moving sake. It can truly be the only way of getting from one place to another. As I sit here trudging I am reminded to be grateful. I woke up next to my wife of seven years. My children all woke up and I received several hugs from my daughter. My littlest showed me his cars and my eldest did tell me of the book he's reading (a miracle unto itself). I went to a meeting and was reminded of my essential powerlessness and the need to allow God be God. I returned and had food in the refrigerator. I was able to cook bacon and eggs for my family and my wife allowed me to take a nap. Before nodding off I was able to read a chapter of Mere Christianity by CS Lewis. I had power for lights and the bed was warm and dry.

And as I have just trudged through the truly amazing things in my life I find that that I have entered a different place. Nothing dramatic mind you. Simply a subtle shift.

There is purpose in our trudging. Our God is found in the feet.